The Order of the Memitim
by SacrosanctSofa
Summary: Harry and Neville are taken in by a supernatural faction responsible for keeping the balance of magic intact. Harry and Neville are manipulated by the forces that control the world to go agaist each other. A story of betrayal and ambition. Dark!Harry AU
1. Prologue

The Order of the Memitim  
By Sacrosanct Sofa

I don't remember much from my life, just a few key events. I remember the axe, I remember the man that wielded it, I remember my life's blood spurting out of my body, I remember the sight of the steam that rose from my hot blood melting the cold snow, but the thing I remember most is the day I became a force of nature.

I was non-magical, I know that. I don't remember my age but from the appearance of my body I'd say roughly mid-40s. I was a female of the human species. It is recommended that we don't consider ourselves human so as to distance ourselves from our targets. It helps instill a modicum of insouciance at times, but when I am alone in my room, counting sheep in the warm womb of my bed I can't help but to think as a human, to reflect on the days happenings and respond to them with ebullient emotion.

But these moments are moments where I am weak of mind and weak of character. I do not tell the others of these moments, even though I know they have them too. After all, how could they not? When we reap the dwindling magic from the dying bodies of men and women the world over, it is impossible to keep one's-self separate from what has to be done. For sure, our task is the most thankless of tasks, but it is another vital facet of the system that keeps the world from toppling.

I am a force of nature. I am a force of destruction. I am a force of death. I am a reaper of souls. I am an Orderly of the Memitim. And this is the story of my final death at the hands of Lord Voldemort.

It was a cold and bitter winter night, reminiscent of the day of my first death, the quaint Neo Tudor and Victorian houses were hiding beneath a weight of powdery snow and there were children running from door to door dressed as monsters of the night asking for candy. It was a sweet scene, a picturesque scene and happy scene, a rare thing in a time like this. I was invisible and intangible, I left no footprints in the snow and no heat or magic radiated from body, at least none that anyone could feel, in the eyes of humans and all other sentient species I was non-existent.

The wizard appeared without a whisper in the dark alleyway between two cottages. He was wearing a dark cloak with a hood and boots with metal heels that clicked lightly against the swept cobblestones of the path. To anyone else he seemed to be walking to house 4 on Albright Road, Godric's Hollow, but I had done my homework and I knew that he wasn't going to Number 4, Albright Road; he was going to the invisible house next to it, which had been a home for the Potter family for five generations.

As the man walked down the road, a muggle child ran past him and bumped him slightly causing the man to miss a step in his confident stalk.

Before the child could run passed a hand curled around his shoulder and a white thumb dug into the hollow between collarbone and neck. The young boy whimpered in pain, his friends didn't hear the sound of his pain over their laughter and screams of joy and continued running down the street to the next door, leaving their comrade behind in search of more sweets.

I was the only one close enough to see and hear what happened next. The man and child stood frozen in an all too familiar tableau of prejudice and the dominance of strong over weak. The man whispered in a sinister and sibilant voice the word _Imperio _and a command. I did not hear what the command was but the child's face was wiped of all emotion and he turned to the direction of the North Star and walked. Weeks later they would find the boy's body, still dressed in his goblin costume, dead from starvation and dehydration, with an expression of distinct emptiness upon his young face and feet with raw muscle and bone exposed.

There was nothing I could do for the boy. His life was forfeit the minute he crossed paths with Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort paused after giving his command to the boy to watch him walk away. "Far too easy." He murmured under his breath and spun on one spiked heal back on track to the Potter Household.

He stopped at the front of where the house should be, facing to the side. He whispered under his breath words given to him willingly by the traitorous Secret Keeper. He turned his head towards the house as it appeared brick by brick in front of him.

Unbeknownst to him, I was as close to him as I could be, less than a foot from him watching him as the Fidelius Charm unraveled. To this day, the Dark Lord has no idea just how close he came to the death he had so consistently evaded. But today, his decrepit soul would be mine.

My unknowing companion opened the cast iron gate onto the path. We were now on the Potters' land and thus were hidden from the neighbours' eyes and ears. The house was a small one story cottage with ivy growing on the walls, a frozen bird bath on the front lawn, large rose bushes grew in-front of the facade which partially blocked out the view through the front windows, and tall deciduous trees grew along the side edges of the property with widespread branches that leaned over the gravel path giving the garden a cozy yet grand ambience.

The wide bay window on the right side of the front door was radiating golden light from the merry fire that was crackling in the fire place and emitting white smoke from the chimney. A young man and a young woman nursing an infant in front of the fire could be seen through the rose bushes.

There must have been an alarm ward set on the gate as the man rose as soon as it was opened and peered through the bushes covering the windows. The young woman placed the child on the floor, tied her copper coloured hair back from her face and said something to her husband.  
The Dark Lord enjoyed a moment of true schadenfreude and stood still with his hood thrown back as the young man searched for their surprise guest. The Dark Lord chuckled darkly as James Potter paled upon seeing the man who had plagued his nightmares for months waiting for him to make the first move.

James whipped his head back to his wife Lily. He had taken control of the situation but there was nothing he could have done to stop this from happening. The young woman scooped up the child and ran to the back of the house. By the time James had turned back to the window, the Dark Lord had already reached the front door with me right behind him.

Voldemort knocked loudly on the solid oak door, "James! Open this door and I'll give your wife a chance to live." he called with a slightly sardonic grin on his sickly looking face.

I took this opportunity to enter the building. While I may have been non-magical before my first death I was given set abilities when I was reborn so as to make my job a smooth process. I phased through the wall, feeling every pipe and every nail in the wall and stepped onto soft, thick carpet.

James was still in the sitting room on the right with his wand out and a pale countenance. I knew he was a recently graduated Auror but he could not stand a chance against a Dark Lord who had decades of experience and time spent gathering knowledge to draw on whilst James had 3 years of learning how to control crowds and do paperwork.

Three seconds had passed since Voldemort had knocked on the door. That was enough. He would wait no longer.

Dark Lord's, especially this one, never do anything by halves. That's why Voldemort decided to blast the door off its hinges right into a certain Reaper who was standing on the other side rather than use the doorknob.

Fortunately, it sailed right through me and into the wall behind me.

James, forgoing his usual pacifist tendencies, jumped right into action as soon as the Dark Lord stepped into his home. But Voldemort was ready for him and simply deflected his over-powered Castrating Curse right back at him with perfect accuracy and without drawing his wand.

James screamed as the curse came into contact. An undignified way to die perhaps but I'd seen worse and the Dark Lord had done worse. Nobody expected James to be able to hold off the Dark Lord for more than a couple of seconds. He was not a great wizard, his ability to draw upon the magic in his system was just above average and his talent with transfiguration was impressive but when it comes down to it, he was just a boy forced to grow up too fast.

It had been less than twenty seconds since the Dark Lord Voldemort had walked through the front gate and James Potter was lying on the ground in the fetal position crying and pressing his hands to his groin. He was incapable of the concentration necessary for any kind of defense and he was going to bleed to death in a matter of minutes.

The Dark Lord had not spoken a word since his grand entrance and he did not say a word while he stood over the boy to watch his face constrict with paint.

This is where my task must be fulfilled, I had four souls to remove from this world on this night October 31st, 1981, and James was the first to be harvested.

I closed my eyes and breathed in and out slowly and patiently. When I opened them again I could see the magic that held their bodies together and hid their souls from plain view; James was shining like the first break of light over the horizon with pure silver and bronze rays and the Dark Lord was gleaming softly with a dark red and silver light. Their eyes were swirling pools of infinite colour, light, complexity and contrast. One man was a broken, abused, aged and disturbed man while the other was a pure, naive, young and caring father who loved his wife and son more than magic itself. The contrast between the two, murderer and victim, war lord and soldier, hate and love was beautiful, deadly and fantastical.

I shook myself out of my daze and knelt down by the young father and pressed my lips to his. He could not see me or feel me but he could feel his body getting colder and colder and that spark of life, that pure magic and raw purpose and personality was drained from him and given to me to hold until it could be given back to the world as new and unfettered magic ready to be used to make the impossible possible.

The Dark Lord waited until the very last of James Potter's spirit had been siphoned away before he continued through the rest of the family. He followed the sound of crying through to where Lily and Harry Potter were hiding.

The room was at the back of the house where the most light was and the moonlight was casting an ethereal glaze to every surface and a sharp intensity to every outline. The baby was in his crib crying and wailing having sensed the stress in the air. Lily Potter had used the time that the Dark Lord spent observing the death of her husband to good use by placing wards and protective charms around the crib. Glowing runes could be seen just fading as the last of her spell work was completed. Ever practical Lily had spent her last few moments setting up a mini ward system which would weaken the presence of magic in that small area for a time, making highly powerful curses such as the Killing Curse, that require the circular absorption of magic to work, nigh on impossible to perform.

Lily Potter had given her son the best defense she could, all it would require was her sacrifice and the cycle would be completed.

"Stand aside, girl."

"No, no! Please, not Harry! Take me instead! Please, not Harry!"

"Stand aside!"

"No! I won't! Take me! Kill me! Not Harry! Please!"

He was losing his patience with her. He had made a bargain with Severus Snape, but I knew that if that bargain became too irritating to uphold then he would abandon it without a second thought. He would most likely use the Killing Curse. I would have to act fast. The Killing Curse is hard to do as the soul and the magic that binds it to the body and hides it from outside forces are split apart and the Reaper has to do a broad sweep of the area so as to get every last fragment of personality and spirit. This is what makes the sound of rushing air when Avada Kedavra is cast, not the actual spell itself but rather the sound of the pure magic expelled pushing its way through the air towards to Reaper in question.

"I will let you live if you let me have him."

"No! I won't give him to you! Just kill me! Isn't that enough?"

"No, it isn't. _Avada Kedavra_."

I breathed in as hard and fast as I could as Lily Potter's soul was ripped away from its body and its magic and flung out into the ether. It looked like I was going to lose it for one heart-stopping moment but then they slowed down and started spiraling around my head faster and faster until finally they plunged down my throat.

Lily and James Potter were dead and it had been less than five minutes since Voldemort had appeared without a whisper in that dark alleyway on a cold and bitter winter night.

Harry James Potter the last of the Potter line was drooling and crying in his crib as the Dark Lord Voldemort stepped up to the edge of his crib and looked down at his supposed equal. The sneer upon his face was formidable in its intensity. I followed him as close as I could so I was within arm's reach of both targets.

Harry James Potter's magic was dull and his small incomplete soul could be seen through the lacework of the magic within his body that kept him alive.

I was getting ready for my final death, for I knew this was coming, it was what I had been ordered to do, it would lead to my final death but I was glad and proud to accept the responsibility. I was old. Very old. My first death had been during the Crusades. I had lived a long time and I was glad to finally let my tired soul rest forever.

Magic is a beautiful thing. It makes things come alive and makes the impossible an everyday occurrence, but it also does the work that no one is aware of. It keeps the fabric of the universe, the warp and the weft of the world from unraveling. The thinner the magic in an area the more likely a magical vacuum will be created.

The area around the crib had almost no magic and the fabric of the world was extremely thin and liable to rupture with just the right push. Lord Voldemort, I and the golem of Harry James Potter in the crib would be that push; the right combination of factors that would create a magical vacuum that would suck up any magic that is not ambient so as to fill the hole and repair to damage.

All that was needed was for one wizard to perform a high powered spell that would finally drain the area of the little magic it had left.

"Avada Kedavra!"

I knew my targets well.

All three sentient beings were within the magical vacuum that was created at the end of Lord Voldemort's wand and so all of the magic that was within our bodies was first stripped away to reveal our pulsing souls, throbbing against the last strands of magic hiding our souls like birds in a cage, then the cage was opened and our souls escaped our bodies, turned into ambient magic and patched up the hole in the fabric.

I regret nothing. We are all born to die. It was my time. And I was glad to finally put my heavy head to rest.

There would be no afterlife for me. I faded into non-existence and the pure magic that is my soul returned to the Earth along with the fake soul and magic of the golem and the incomplete and fractured soul of the Dark Lord.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, magic to magic. By ending we all return to the beginning as our souls become the magic that binds us, the magic that heals us, the magic that kills us, the magic that keeps us going when nothing else does. Oh, one could not hope for a more glorious denouement than the one gifted to I.

**Authors Note**

This will turn out to be an epic length fic. Please note this is note for people who like Neville. He's gonna get a fair share of the misfortune.


	2. Annabelle and Julius

The Order of the Memitim

Chapter 1 - Annabelle and Julius

By SacrosanctSofa

**The Memitim Mansion, October 30th, 1981**

A young woman and an older man were alone in a large vaulted hall, the world outside was holding its collective breath, waiting for the sun to fracture the velvet silence of dark night with a dramatic morn. The large stained glass windows were open and birds could be heard chirping, the frogs living in the wetlands just past the boundaries of the manor grounds could be heard celebrating the healthy environment they lived in.

"Is this the other?" said the man. He was not looking at the woman as he spoke but rather at the sleeping child wrapped up in white blankets in her arms.

"Yes, sir."

"Were there any complications?"

"A pack of Death Eaters arrived at the same time. I had to sneak the boy out from under their noses. The parents were tortured to insanity."

"Did you try to help the parents?"

"No, sir."

The older man looked away from the child to stare into her eyes at this point with authority writ across his dark face. The girl seemed to wither under the stare.

"Do not lie to me, Annabelle. I have known you since you were a child. It is not hard for me to see through your deceit."

"... I tried to kill one of them, Bellatrix Lestrange."

"I thought this might happen."

"Is that why you sent one from the lower ranks to follow me, sir?"

"Correct, but I knew not through any wizardry on my part. I just know you well enough that I understand how you think and how you react to situations. I knew there was a strong chance you would at least make an attempt to rectify the status-quo."

"Was it wrong of me?"

"No, you are what you are, and what you are is an extremely compassionate and loving person. Perhaps they are unorthodox traits in someone of our... profession, but one which you cannot help. While what you did, or at least tried to do was not wrong, per se, if you had not done it you would not have received that deep cut on your leg."

Annabelle pressed her hand to a spot on her right leg.

"Sir-"

"Did you not think that I would be able to tell? A change of clothes and a well-cast misconcept is not enough to make me see what I want to see, Annabelle. I am neither a muggle nor an idiot. Remove the misconcept."

The woman placed the child on an armchair nearby. She reached behind her head and took her wand from the holster on the back of her neck which was covered by her long strawberry-blonde hair. She traced a five-pointed star on her right leg with her wand, whispering a Slavic-sounding word at every point. Now the pale jeans she was wearing were shown to have dark spots of blood on her thigh.

"After you have given the boy to one of the nurses go to Perry and get that fixed."

"Yes, sir."

There was a comfortable silence for a moment while Annabelle and her companion watched the rising sun.

"The Dark Lord knows the location of the Potter residence," the man stated bluntly.

"Black betrayed them?"

"No, it appears we were mistaken. The Potter's have pulled a double blind and named Peter Pettigrew as their secret keeper. Pettigrew gave the location to Voldemort and his followers last night. Voldemort will kill Mr. Potter's golem, James and Lily Potter."

"But the wards in the boys room-"

"I know. But we are not capable of entering the residence. We will have to have Elizabeth follow the Dark Lord to the Potter home."

"But that- but that means that Elizabeth will die. The vacuum wards Lily Potter has apparently created in the house together with the destruction of the golem will surely destroy her." The young woman was staring up at the man with a disbelieving look upon her face.

"That is correct. But there is a silver lining, Voldemort will also be destroyed."

Annabelle stared at the tall man with undisguised horror.

"Elizabeth, James and Lily Potter will be sacrificed so that Harry will have the childhood you want him to have?"

"Yes, I have already spoken to her about it and she has agreed."

"You manipulated her didn't you? You used her failure to protect herself from Voldemort's ancestor all those years ago to get her to agree. You made her see it as an act of vengeance, did you not? James and Lily are dedicated parents, they would do it anyway, but Elizabeth? She has nothing to do with this!" The girl was breathing heavily after her tirade. She looked at the tall man with frustration.

"She has nothing to do with this! You can't do this to her! You can't do this to me!"

The girl started hitting the man's chest with her small, pale fists and screaming with tears streaming down her face. The man wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest to try to stop her. She was soon trapped against his torso, her arms bent at the elbows stuck between her and the man.

"I have done things like this before and so have you, surely you-"

"No, Julius _fucking_ Dartmoor, I am not _fucking_ okay with it! Elizabeth is like a mother to me! I have to stop her. I can't let this happen to her."

"She has already left and I have changed the wards around the manor so that you cannot leave. I will not allow you to throw away our plans. This has to be done to keep the balance, this is the only way we can kill Voldemort without having to fight a war. Elizabeth is old Annabelle, she was reaching the age she would have to pass on. Reapers do not live forever like we do, Anna. We lead them and they follow us, we live on and they die, we are magical and they are not. It is the way it works."

"But- Jules-" the girl stuttered against his chest.

"I told you not to call that detestable nickname. And you are crying on my armor, you will make it rust, stop crying. Take Mr Longbottom to his nurse. I am sure he is hungry." Julius Dartmoor took hold of Annabelle's wrists with bruising strength and forced her away from him.

"I hate you. I fucking hate you!" The girl yelled in the man's face.

The loud noises woke the infant lying on the armchair and the crying echoed through the large hall.

"I'm going to kill you one day, Julius. I swear I will."

"I look forward to the day, Annabelle Lescenski."

* * *

**Longbottom House, June 12th, 1989**

A soulless magical construct was kneeling in the backyard of the Longbottom residence digging a hole on the edge of an enclosed area. Beside the seemingly normal eight year old boy was a box of potted flowers waiting to be planted.

The boy was wearing a cap emblazoned with the Manchester United emblem too protect him the harsh sun's rays and tough dragonhide gloves to protect his small, soft hands from the prickly flowers.

The golem's hands gently teased a flower from its box and placed the flower in the hole, poured some water in from the small toy watering can and some fertilizer. The boy covered the hole with the dug up dirt and watered it again after patting it down some.

The boy stood up to his not-so-impressive height and looked down at his growing flowerbed with infantile delight and pride.

A voice sounded from inside the house behind the boy and the golem's face broke into a carefree smile as an old woman came out onto the white washed patio with a tray of glasses and a jug dripping with condensation.

As the old woman placed the tray on the somewhat rickety table the boy came bounding over ,forgetting his flower bed for the moment in the face of ice-cold lemonade, and sat on a chair conjured by the old lady under the shade of a gnarled old tree. The old woman poured two glasses of homemade lemonade and gave one to the boy.

"How is your flower bed going, Neville dear?" the old woman asked with a kindly smile on her face

"S'good, Nanna!"The golem called Neville Longbottom took a big slurp from his cold glass before he continued talking "When d'ya think it'll be ready?"

"Speak slower, Neville, and take smaller sips. You should have some flowers ready for your birthday, hun."

"Cool! Can I give some to Mum and Dad?"

"Of course, Neville. We're going to visit them on your birthday so they should be ready. Tomorrow we'll start planting magical plants."

The construct smiled a tooth-deprived grin up at his grandmother and finished off his glass of lemonade.

"When do you think I'll do some accidental magic, nanna?" the boy asked

The boys grandmother took a while to formulate her response. She did not want to discourage the boy.

"I am sure you will soon, Neville. Your own father performed his first bout of accidental magic just two weeks before his Hogwarts letter came and he turned out to be one of the best Aurors in the Dark War. You are just a late bloomer, nothing to worry your cheeky little head about."

I was all a lie. Frank Longbottom performed his first accidental magic when he was four, five years younger than Neville is now. But there was no reason to discourage the boy, and it was a harmless lie.

"Did he really?" the boy said while pouring himself another glass.

"Yes he did, Neville. Would I lie to you?" The old woman decided to ignore the irony of that statement.

"No, way, Nanna! But Luna did her first when she was seven!"

"Ahhh, yes. But that was just after she had found out what happened to her mother and she was very emotional at the time. You haven't had anything like that happen to you nor have you had a reason to feel such extreme emotion as she did. She blew out all the glass in their... tower and boiled all the water in the pond."

"I guess." The boy said with a slight pout. Although he would never admit to sporting such a girly facial expression.

"I should go, Nanna, if I want to get my flowers all planted today. The lemonade was much appre-appreshated after all the hard work I have done but I don't have time to sit here and sip lemonade with you." Neville put on a serious face which was abruptly ruined when he ran from the table with childish giggle.

"You cheeky boy! I'll tell your parents about this!" the boy's grandmother yelled after him.

Neville's golem stood over his plot of precious land and surveyed his hard work so far.

"Okay! One flower down, forty-nine to go!"

* * *

**The Cupboard-Under-The-Stairs, Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, June 12th, 1989**

"Hey! Poo-face! Wake the fuck up!"

"Duddikins, baby, please don't swear like that. The neighbours might hear."

"Screw you, Mum!"

"Thatta boy, Dudley! Don't let a woman take control of your life! If your mother ever gives you cheek like that, get her to make you a sandwich. And that goes for any cunt you end up fucking later in life."

"Okay, Dad!"

"I'm sorry, Vernon."

"That's alright. You didn't realise what you were doing."

The golem posing as Harry Potter heaved a sigh with his small lungs swung his legs over the cot and walked the short distance to the door of his cupboard.

"I'm awake!" he called out.

"About time, boy! Now make us breakfast! I have to be at work in two hours!"

The golem called Harry made his cot and slipped on some shoes over his threadbare socks. He made his way out the cupboard and started making breakfast in the kitchen for his guardians immediately.

Dudley Dursley was sitting at the table his huge bottom overflowing and pressing through the bars on the back of the chair, but there was no way he could beat his father when it comes to sheer girth as Uncle Vernon seemed to hold enough fat on his person to sweat mayonnaise. Vernon was reading the business section of the newspaper and Dudley was eating last night's leftovers.

Harry's Aunt Petunia was a severe contrast to the whale-sized boys at the table. She was unhealthily thin with a long neck, short blonde hair and was sitting at on the edge of her seat with her knees together, back straight and her hands resting, thumb in fist, on her lap. Her uncomfortable looking high-heels lifted her knees up five inches and her high waisted, pristine white pencil skirt showed off her non-existent figure. All in all, she looked so timid and frail; the boy was surprised she didn't get blown away by the wind every time a breeze rolled in through an open window.

With the aid of a few phonebooks to lift his small body high enough to see what was happening in the pan, the boy cooked the breakfast for the suburban family. After the bacon was cooked to perfection, the eggs sunny-side up, the mushrooms cooked through and the tomatoes grilled just right he served up three plates of equal size to the table. Dudley had finished his leftovers already but the golem knew he would still be hungry.

Vernon checked his fake Rolex. "Ten minutes. Not damn well good enough. Next time do it faster."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." The golem went back to the kitchen to clean up.

"Perhaps, I could cook the breakfast tomorrow, Vernon?" Petunia asked with a small, breathy voice.

"No. That means you wouldn't be ready for me at the right time. Remember what your duty is to me as a wife?"

"Yes, Vernon. 8 am for half an hour every morning or you don't work as well at the office and 10 am for an hour on the weekends or I don't get anything to eat for the day."

"That's right. For goodness sake, retard! Get rid of all that food on your Aunt's plate! She can't eat that much! She'll get even fatter than she already bloody well is!"

The young boy hurried back to the table and cleared away most of the food on his Aunt's plate. Petunia was left with one egg and a piece of dry toast.

"And don't you even think about eating that! Pack it up and I'll have it for lunch today."

The golem walked back to the kitchen with the full plate and made it all into a sandwich. While the happy family sitting at the table was preoccupied with their meal he ducked down a few times to stuff a piece of bacon in his mouth and two raw tomatoes in his pocket.

The old grandfather clock called out eight o'clock.

"Can I go watch some TV, Dad?" Dudley asked

"Of course you can, son. Your mother and I are going to be busy for a little while but we'll leave at a quarter to nine, Dudley."

"Yay! Thomas the Tank Engine!" The eight year old obese Dudley flailed his arms in the air and the golem was nearly mesmerised by the rippling fat on his upper arms. Dudley ran out of the kitchen with a strange waddling gait but had to stop to catch his breath when he reached the doorway five metres from his chair.

"Boy, get back in your cupboard." Vernon growled at the magical construct as he and Petunia walked up the stairs to their bedroom.

'Harry' scampered as quickly as he could back to his dark and hot cupboard.

Unfortunately for him, he was almost directly below Vernon's bedroom and he ate his tomatoes to some truly disturbing sounds.

* * *

**The Memitim Mansion, June 14th, 1989**

"Wake up Harry!"

"No! Gerroff, Nev!"

Harry Potter was currently under attack by a boisterous classmate. Neville Longbottom was jumping up and down in his pyjamas on his friend's large bed trying desperately to wake him up.

"But Harry! It's Monday today!"

A sudden gasp was heard from beneath the pile of dark blue blankets and suddenly all the blankets and the boy bouncing on the bed were swept off onto the polished wooden floor.

The small boy with black hair ran as fast as he could out the door of his bedroom and down the spiral staircase just outside his room at the top of the north tower while his friend Neville flailed in the blankets trying to get out.

Harry arrived at the door to the dining room seconds before his friend did. While Harry waited at the larger doors to the dining room for the breakfast bell to toll Neville crashed into him.

"Harry!" the brown haired boy whined "You stuffed up my hair!" While looking into the mirror on the wall beside the large double doors leading to the dining room.

"Your hair doesn't need my help to get messed up, stupid! It does it all by itself!"

"You're only worried about your hair because you have a crush on Anna."

Neville blushed a deep red, mumbled something incoherent and looked back at the mirror again to try and fix his hair with copious amounts of saliva.

"What was that Neville? You smell like dog breath? Wuh? You like to eat poo?" Harry said loudly while cupping his hand around his ear.

"I said I don't have a crush on Annabelle!"

"You so do!"

"So don't!"

"So do!"

"So don't!"

"So d-"

The boys' 'argument', if it could truly be called that, was interrupted by the sound of a bell ringing in the dining room.

Neville opened the now unlocked dining room door and took a deep breath of the veritable feast.

There was every kind of breakfast food imaginable, even exotic breakfasts like Nazi Goreng and steamed pork buns, laid out on the large polished dining table with chairs enough to seat fifty people with a big engraved one at the end furthest from the boys.

"Quick, Nev! Before everyone else gets here!"

The boys ran across the dining room dodging the house elves still serving various dishes.

Neville took both his and Harry's plates and walked around the table filling both plates to the brim.

"Ew! Neville! You know I don't like spinach!"

"Sorry, Harry!" Neville called back and placed the spinach back on the platter.

Neville walked back to his best friend with a heavy plate of food in each arm. He set down a plate in front of Harry and one in front of him as he sat down.

And then both boys waited, staring balefully at their food, for what seemed like eternity, but in reality was only two minutes.

"I hate these moments where we have to-"Harry started to say before he was cut off by a deep, male baritone from behind them.

"Good morning, boys. Did you sleep well?"

"Mr Dartmoor!" Harry cried out in a childish soprano and jumped out of his chair as fast as he could, knocking the chair over in the process, and ran to the tall, dark man at the large double doors.

"Hello, Mr Potter."

Harry stopped a metre from Julius and looked up with awe in his verdant eyes.

"Good morning, sir. Yes I did sleep well, did you?"

"Yes, I did Mr Potter. What about you Mr Longbottom?"

Neville had walked at a more sedate pace to their teacher and had just reached him.

"I slept well also, sir."

"Can I hug you, sir?" Harry asked hopefully

Julius chuckled. "Of course you can, Harry. Come here, boy" Julius held out his long arms and knelt down on one knee.

Harry dove into his teachers embrace like a fish into water. He felt comfortable in Julius's arms like nowhere else, he felt safe and loved and he knew that no one would dare hurt him when Julius was around, cause everyone knew that Harry was his favourite of the three up-and-coming Seekers.

The other Seekers were slowly starting to filter in. Most of them Harry and Neville didn't know by name but instead by rank, which was shown by the golden roman numerals embroidered on their clothes. The Seekers and the Novices came in first as the Reapers always waited outside the dining room until the second bell rang for them an hour after the first.

"When will Aemilius come?" Neville asked Julius.

"He should be along any minute. But don't talk to him today; he had to deal with the Kagutsuchi over a bout of cholera in Papua New Guinea at 2am this morning and he only just got back to find the Hospital Wing had run out of Pepper-up Potions." Julius said warningly.

"Where's Papua New Guinea?" Harry asked

"It's just north of Australia, Harry." Julius said "Remember Australia from the big world map in the library?"

"Yeah, I remember. Is Papua New Guinea the one that looks like a lobster claw?" Harry said

"Huh, I suppose it does look a bit like a lobster claw. Now stop asking me questions, Aemilius will be along any minute now and I look stupid kneeling down here." Julius said while he stood to his full height.

"But Julius-" Harry started to say before a young man about nineteen years old banged open the front doors with a grand sweeping gesture. By now all of the Seekers bar one were in the dining room in their full dark blue militaristic uniform.

The newest arrival was tall, about six foot and four inches, and a lanky and thin body, verging on gaunt. He wore full navy blue regalia reminiscent of a muggle military uniform but with a black cloak on top. His dark jaw length hair was slicked back and his dark, sunken eyes, full of ire, fatigue and cynicism, glittered from an olive toned face, a skin tone typical of southern Italians.

All of the Seekers present moved to stand behind their assigned seats, the Second at the right hand corner of the table ,he was closest to the large throne-like chair at the head, while Julius, who is the Twelfth, was the furthest Seeker from the head. Harry and Neville sat across from each other next to Julius, leaving a space across from Julius for the Thirteenth, who was yet to arrive.

The tall youth sat down in the large engraved chair at the head of the table and gestured with a wave of his hand for everyone else to sit.

The young man served himself and started eating. This was everyone else cue to start on their respective meals.

Harry and Neville ate with gusto befitting growing boys and their full plates were gone in less than ten minutes. Next to Neville, Julius ate at a much statelier pace, chary of spoiling his crisp uniform.

The two boys stood out like sore thumbs in their matching lime green pyjamas, contrasted by the dark sombre colours of the other occupants and the dark wood of the panelled walls, the rich oak of the table and the warm golden light filtering through the tall windows on either side. On one side of the dining room a dark forest was awakening from its dark somnolence and on the other a paved courtyard with a line of cherry blossom trees on the farside housed a gushing fountain. The large fountain had a brass plaque fastened to it with the words '_ut servo pondera,_ _tenio pacis, praesumo validis' _engraved in cursive writing on it.

Neville and Harry kept quiet while everyone else was eating. While Julius and Aemilius might have the patience to deal with two eight year old boys not everyone else at the table did.

After everyone had finished eating, the young man at the head of the table clicked his fingers and two house elves popped in to clear away the general debris.

"Where, pray tell, is Annabelle Lescenski?" the young man at the head of the table asked with a voice that sounded used to obedience.

"She is directing Unit Four Hundred and Thirty-Four in China, sir. Apparently, there was some sort of mining incident and the Reapers are having trouble getting to their Marks." A tall, athletic looking woman answered his query. She had the number seven stitched into the breast of her jacket in gold roman numerals. Her shoulder length black hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and her dark blue eyes glittered with that irritating morning-person cheer.

"Thank you, Brunilda. At least it isn't just because Julius is here," the young man said with a quirk of his lips.

"Aemilius, with all due respect, Annabelle is far too responsible to miss out on a Monday morning with such a pathetic reason," Julius said.

"Of course, you would say that, Julius, you trained her for over twenty years," Aemilius said with his long, slender hands making expressive gestures in front of him.

"Yes, I _would_ say that as I am the one who knows her the best."

"And yet you are also the one she dislikes to most. To the point where she has sworn to kill you before you have a chance to ascend to become the Eleventh." This rebuttal came from an older man with a shaved head and a hook shaped scar around his eye and down his cheek. For his relative old age his body seemed to be in prime condition.

"Enough about the Thirteenth, she is the youngest of us and the most inexperienced but she has a lot of potential and is mature for her age. Let us not forget appearances can be deceiving." To add credence to his last sentence Aemilius spread arms and leaned back as if to showcase his youthfulness with a raised eyebrow and lopsided grin.

Harry and Neville giggled childishly behind their raised palms for while Aemilius, the First of the Seekers, may seem to have just entered adulthood, everyone at the table knew that he was there when Julius Caesar was stabbed in the back by Brutus, as he was the one who directed one of the Reapers to collect his soul and magic. Aemilius Hilarus Seneca was the oldest being at the table.

"All right then, enough pleasantries and courtesies. Let's get on to business," Aemilius declared with a clap of his hands.

Here Harry and Neville blocked out the chatter of the adults around them and talked with each other under their breaths.

"Wow, Aemilius is a good actor." Harry said

"Huh? What are talking about?"

"Julius said he woke up at two in the morning today and he didn't get his daily pepper-up either. He must be really really grumpy but is just covering it up so he doesn't look weak." Harry said with a exasperated look on his face, as if what he had just stated was something so unbelievably obvious that it was almost a crime Neville hadn't noticed it.

"Why would he try to cover it up? It's not as if anyone here would use it against him. Aemilius is really nice! And he's funny too!" Neville said

Harry looked at his friend askance and said "You have a lot to learn, little Nev."

"I'm not little!" Neville said shrilly. Julius heard him and directed a short sharp glare at Neville.

Harry snickered behind his palm at Neville's fear-stricken face. Neville heard him and directed his "angry-face" at him. While Neville thought it made him look intimidating all it did was make his face look like a tomato.

"You did that on purpose! You knew I would be angry enough to yell and you did it so I would get in trouble!" Neville whispered across the table.

"Well, duh. Just like I let you jump on my bed this morning so you would end up on the floor of my bedroom and I would have a head start on the way here."

Neville rolled his eyes at Harry. "You are so gonna be in Slytherin when we get to Hogwarts. You're always tricking me into doing things for you."

"Sure am," Harry said.

Neville and Harry stopped talking when they heard their names spoken.

"How goes the teaching of Mr Potter and Mr Longbottom?" Aemilius asked of Julius.

"They are progressing at a fine rate. Three hours a day for five days a week is all they need. Their curricula includes ethics, history both magical and non-magical, potions, orienteering, very basic magical theory and everything one would expect a muggle child to learn at a non-magical school, albeit at a faster rate. I will start teaching them magical sight today. I expect them to be at the standard for an Orderly in two years time." Julius answered.

Harry and Neville gasped quietly and smiled at each other like only two eight-year old boys could.

"Good. Hopefully by the time they have graduated from Hogwarts they will have learnt enough to be able to take on the full responsibilities of a Seeker. With Voldemort well and truly dead and a place waiting at the most prodigious school in Britain for them it won't be long until they join our ranks. This meeting is adjourned. All depart." Aemilius declared and stood up abruptly.

Everyone left and behind them a brigade of house-elves expanded the room and added two more tables for the Reapers to be seated.

While walking down the corridor in the opposite direction to the stream of Seekers, Neville and Harry chattered about the pros and cons of magical sight.

"We'll be able to see people's souls!" Neville said

"Yeah, but what if we something we don't want to see." Harry countered

"We can see wards!" Neville said

"We could hurt our eyes if we see a ward system too strong." Harry countered

"We can see lots of pretty colours any time we want!" Neville said while waving his hands in the air

"We can only have it on for ten seconds at a time." Harry countered

Neville looked at Harry with a frustrated look on his face while he thought of another pro.

"We can see people's souls!" He finally said

"You've already said that." Harry said while trying to keep a straight face.

"Stop shooting all my ideas down!"

Harry burst out laughing and Neville stopped walking to watch his friend send himself into infantile hysterics.

"All right, Nev. Let's go have a shower and then we'll go learn magical sight from Julius. And I'm sorry for being practical." Harry said after he had recovered.

Neville heaved a huge sigh. "That's all right, Harry. You're just a mini version of Julius, you can't help it."

"Damn straight, I'm a mini version of Julius. He's my idol you know." Harry said with a conspiratorial wink.

"Yeah, Harry everyone knows he's your idol. Now come on! Magical sight here we come!" Neville said as they both ran down the twisting and confusing corridors of the Memitim Mansion.

**Authors note**

Next chapter will be up sometime next week. Will be roughly 5000-6000 words. Harry and Neville will be on the Hogwarts Express by chapter 4


End file.
